


(no makeup can) hide my heart

by mynameis_not_cathofaragon



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artist Grantaire, Enjolras Has Feelings, Enjolras Is Bad At Feelings, Enjolras and Cosette Fauchelevent are Siblings, First Kiss, Getting Together, Grantaire Wears Makeup, Kissing, Love Confessions I Guess, M/M, Makeup, Mild Language, Piningjolras, background courferre eposette jmb and bazfeuilly, grantaire is lowkey an eboy, i honestly don't know what this is, like two lines of implied sexual content, why is that not a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:20:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27962945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mynameis_not_cathofaragon/pseuds/mynameis_not_cathofaragon
Summary: The one where Grantaire wears makeup, and Enjolras is smitten.
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 67





	(no makeup can) hide my heart

**Author's Note:**

> ngl i'm not sure what this is? i just liked the idea of r wearing makeup and enjolras having a crisis over it, thus this was born

It starts with some eyeliner. 

Enjolras is sorting through his notes for the meeting, thinking about the topics he wants to focus on that day. Most of the people are already in the backroom of the Musain, chatting until the last few member arrive. 

It's not long before they do, including Cosette and Grantaire, who sit near him, and the rest of their friends, as per usual. 

He doesn’t notice at first, too preoccupied with wanting to start the meeting. It is around twenty minutes after he’s done so that he sees it. 

He's glancing around the room, seeing if everyone is paying attention; almost on instinct his eyes look for Grantaire, never mind the fact that the cynic has been an attentive member for a long time now. He's there, looking at him, an almost thoughtful expression on his face –probably thinking of a counterargument. He looks like any other day at first glance, so Enjolras barely sets his eyes on him for a moment before moving on. And then he does a double take, as he sees the glimmer around his eyes –golden eyeliner. 

He hesitates mid-sentence, something many people do when speaking in public, and as such nobody really pays him any mind. But he’s not many people, he’s Enjolras, public speaking is his thing, and of course Combeferre notices, raising a questioning eyebrow, which he dutifully ignores. 

The thing is, it’s not like Enjolras is against people who aren’t women wearing makeup or some bullshit like that, it would incredibly hypocritical of him. It's not that it’s the first time one of his friends wears it, either, Courfeyrac and Jehan do it semiregularly, he himself wears mascara whenever he wants his very blonde eyelashes to not disappear, Cosette and Musichetta have done full faces of makeup on most, if not everyone, of them at least once. He appreciates the time and skill that goes into it, and knows how much it can enhance someone’s natural beauty. 

That's the problem, actually, because the gold eyeliner that Grantaire is wearing really brings attention to his eyes, making them look even prettier than they already are. If Enjolras swooned over them before, he has no chance now. 

Still, he manages to finish the meeting without any hitches, and soon enough the backroom of the Musain clears, except for their little group. He's not the only one who notices R’s eyeliner, of course, and all their friends have some compliment to give him, to which he responds with smirks, and a lovely pink tint on his cheeks. (Meanwhile, Cosette is beaming, taking full credit for the situation, as apparently she had convinced him to try it out. Enjolras is not sure whether to be grateful or upset with his dear sister.) 

Enjolras hesitates, but eventually finds himself close enough to Grantaire to mutter in a low enough voice that only he will hear, “It really brings out your eyes.” 

R seems started, but he replies with an almost nervous smirk, “You sure? Maybe I should leave the gold to you, Apollo.” 

Before Enjolras has time to respond, he’s gone, and luckily so, for he has no idea what he could have said. 

It doesn’t end there, of course it doesn’t. After that day, Grantaire joins Jehan and Courf in wearing some form of makeup often. Most days, it is eyeliner, gold and black his favourite colours it seems, but he’s tried many others; sometimes there’s some eyeshadow thrown in there, mainly under or in the inner corners of his eyes, and a few memorable times he’d even worn lipstick. (No, Enjolras has not fantasised about seeing it smeared on his own lips, where would you get those ideas?) He also probably wears foundation or any of those subtle products that he’s accompanied Cosette to buy sometimes, but Enjolras doesn’t know enough about it to be certain. 

Grantaire had been attractive before, with his tattooed arms, and crooked nose, and easy smiles, and wild hair, and the permanent stubble, but with the addition of makeup he seems even more confident, and that’s what really screws Enjolras even more. Because sure, it’s normal to think that your friends are hot, in a totally “I can appreciate beauty without feeling attraction” kind of way, but if he’s being honest with himself, it had never been like that with R. 

When they’d first met, back when the ABC was barely a shadow of what it is now, Grantaire was an asshole –and Enjolras was too. Too hot-headed for his own good, so many ideas in his mind, still learning to organise them. He doesn’t remember what their first argument had been about, but he does remember the feelings of exhilaration, frustration, incredulity, that had come with it; or actually, with R. 

Somewhere along the line they had left their petty, immature fights behind, instead having heated yet mostly civil debates. Around that time, they had grown closer, too, and before he knew it, Enjolras had developed a crush on the most cynical person he’d ever met. He is sure Grantaire still feels the remanent of their past, though, so he’s been keeping his feelings to himself –even if he’s certain that all of their friends know-, which was working out perfectly –minus his heartache-, until his darling sister convinced R to put on eyeliner, and now he doesn’t know how long it’ll be until he blurts out his feelings. 

It's both torture and a blessing, seeing Grantaire even more beautiful than before, confident, while not being able to act on his feelings, because Enjolras will be dammed before ruining their friendship for a stupid crush that he can get over. He can, really, he just needs some more time –never mind that it’s been months, if not more, now, and his infatuation has done nothing but grown. But he’s fine, really, peachy. 

That is, until the gallery. 

They've just wrapped up a meeting, when Grantaire tells them that his art will be featured in the newest exhibit of a gallery. He says it nonchalantly, like it’s not a big deal, but the way he plays with the hair tie that’s always on his wrist tells Enjolras how big it actually is. 

Of course, everyone is ecstatic for him, asking details, cheering, congratulating him, and Grantaire is smiling that soft, rare, little smile that makes Enjolras’ heart melt every time he sees it. 

Soon enough, the day of the opening comes, and Enjolras is freaking out about his outfit just a bit, the appropriate amount, in his humble opinion. Combeferre is at Courfeyrac’s getting ready, because apparently it was more convenient timewise going there than coming back to the flat he shares with Enjolras to get ready; Enjolras is not so sure about the veracity of this, but he doesn’t say anything. It may be even better, actually, because as much as he loves his best friends, he’d probably never hear the end of it if they saw him panicking over his clothes. 

On the downside, though, he could use a second opinion. But, then again, they’d ask why he’s freaking out, and he’d rather not talk about his feelings unless he absolutely has to. 

He ends up making his decision, spends another ungodly amount of time on his hair, and then he’s out of the door, nerves fading to give way to the excitement of seeing R’s art. 

Most of their friends are already there when he arrives, waiting at the door. As he approaches them, almost on instinct, Enjolras checks the time, worried that he’s late. 

Cosette notices, knowing about his thing with punctuality. “Relax, you’re fine,” she says as rolls her eyes good-naturedly. 

She's right, technically they are all five minutes early, but still, he rolls his eyes back at her, going to stand next to Joly. Musichetta and Bossuet are each holding one of his hands, Cosette has an arm around Éponine’s waist, both talking to Jehan and Marius, as Feuilly and Bahorel whisper something to each other, smiling. Only Courf and Ferre are missing; so much for time convenience. 

They arrive just a few minutes later, though, and so they all go inside, ignoring the looks some people throw their way –they are frankly a big group. Once inside, Enjolras immediately searches for Grantaire through the crowd. Jehan finds him first, though, calling his name and leading the way towards the artist. 

He's standing almost shyly near a wall of paintings, obviously his. They all say their hello’s, and when it’s Enjolras’ turn, his breath almost catches in his throat. How could it not, when Grantaire is standing there handsome as fuck with his hair partly up –a stray curl still resting on his forehead-, a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showing the tattoos on his arms, and red around his eyes –Enjolras isn’t sure if it is eyeshadow or eyeliner or what, but god, does it look good on him. 

He somehow manages to greet him normally, not noticing the knowing looks their friends share. When he turns to the paintings, however, he can’t help the gasp that escapes his lips. 

There's five paintings, all depicting different things, yet even his untrained eye can see that they were all made by the same hand, a certain cohesiveness visible on all of them. Enjolras thinks the scenes are familiar, perhaps stories he knows, but he can’t recognise them completely. 

Even so, the strokes create such movement in the still figures, the lightning of the pieces bringing them to life with the emotion on the faces, the colours mixing and contrasting with each other. It's breath-taking. 

“Do you like them?” 

Enjolras is snapped from his reverie by Grantaire’s question. He's honestly not certain of how long he stood there, admiring the paintings, could have been a few seconds or an hour, but when he looks around, the rest of the Amis are not there. 

Grantaire is, though, a guarded look on his face, almost as if he were afraid of what Enjolras could say; there’s also a glimmer of what looks like hope in his eyes, as well as pride. This finishes pulling Enjolras out of his head, turning to he’s fully facing the artist. 

“R, this is stunning!” 

The twinkle in his eyes slowly expands to the rest of his expression, a small smile finding its way into his lips. “You really think so?” 

Enjolras nods vehemently. “I may not know about art as much as you do, but these are one of the best pieces I’ve ever seen, you are really talented.” He says it as a truth rather than an opinion, in his leader voice, the one that leaves no room for arguments. 

Grantaire’s smile only grows bigger as he recognises his tone, the doubt left in his expression disappearing almost completely. “They are Greek myths,” he explains. He points to one of them, “that’s Cassandra, she could see the future, but was cursed so that no one would believe her...” 

Enjolras listens attentively as Grantaire talks about paintings. He tells him the stories of the myths, the different versions that there are and what each one means, while also explaining some of the details and techniques. 

There's this glint in his eyes as he goes on about art and mythology, one that Enjolras doesn’t see often, but wishes he did. Grantaire is passionate about this, that much is obvious; for all that he says he doesn’t care, Enjolras thinks that is it the opposite. Either way, it’s a delight to see him like this, his face lit up, his hands flying around as he makes points or illustrates something. It’s similar to their debates, to an extent, but while Enjolras genuinely enjoys politics, he knows that’s not the case with R; this, though, it’s something that he clearly loves. 

Enjolras falls a little bit more with each word that comes out of the artist’s mouth, his sentences painting images as much as his brushstrokes. 

“-quite an unfair view, honestly, as she-” Grantaire suddenly stops talking, an embarrassed expression making its way onto his face. “I’m rambling, aren’t I?” 

“No!” Enjolras blurts out. He pauses, hoping no one around them heard him, before adding,” I like hearing you talk about what you love.” 

He's sure his cheeks are as red as the makeup around Grantaire’s eyes, if the warmth he feels is anything to go by, but he’s nothing if not stubborn, so he holds his gaze. The lovely flutter of Grantaire’s eyelashes is worth his self-consciousness. 

“Thanks,” he smiles. 

They look at the other’s eyes for a moment, and suddenly the dull noise of the gallery fades away. Enjolras feels himself inching a tiny bit closer, his gaze involuntarily dropping to Grantaire’s lip for a second. He thinks Grantaire’s does too, but it’s gone before he can say for certain, and then he’s shuffling away from Enjolras, not meeting his eyes. 

Enjolras is lightheaded after that interaction, and he’s thankfully saved from the aftermath by someone he doesn’t recognise coming to congratulate Grantaire. He smiles and waves awkwardly at him, before going to see some of the other art, which he’d all but forgotten about until that moment. 

As he strolls around the gallery, seeing the rest of the paintings but not really looking at them, he lets his thoughts wander, _what the fuck had just happened_ being the most prominent one. 

Grantaire had looked at his lips, he’s almost sure, but was it just a reflex? Or could he possibly feel something for Enjolras? He doesn’t want to entertain that possibility, in case it’s not more than wishful thinking, but the fact was there. And he had seemed flustered when they were talking... 

He's confused, and an art gallery may not be the best place to dwell on his feelings. By the time all the Amis meet again by the door to head to Cosette and Éponine's for a sort of celebratory party consisting only of them, Enjolras has half a mind made to talk with Ferre, and probably Courf, about the R situation tomorrow. 

His sister’s -and sister in law’s- flat is the chosen one this time for no other reason than that it is their turn to play hostess. Parties, get-togethers, celebrations, movie nights, whatever you called them, are something their not so small group does quite often, and they rotate the place for pretty much each one. 

Once they are all in the flat, hugs, more congratulations, compliments and alcohol make themselves present; there’s also a cake Jehan baked. While Enjolras is not so fond of big social events, these parties with just the Amis he did enjoy quite a lot. 

Not before long, everyone is at least a tad tipsy, and there’s music someone put on at some point. Courfeyrac is dancing with Musichetta and Cosette, Éponine’s sitting, looking at her girlfriend softly, Joly, Combeferre and Bahorel are playing cards, Feuilly is braiding Jehan’s hair, Marius and Bossuet are making cocktails. Enjolras doesn’t see Grantaire anywhere, and he’s feeling a bit warm, so he makes his way to the balcony. 

The night air hits him as soon as he steps out, the noise their friends are making now muffled. There's a certain stillness out there, it’s not completely quiet, Paris never sleeps, but it’s peaceful. It may also have something to do with the pleasant buzz he feels due to the alcohol in his system. 

He blames said alcohol and the dark for not noticing Grantaire leaning over the railing until he says, “Hey.” 

There’s little light, most of it coming from the moon over them and the street lights below them, but it doesn’t diminish Grantaire’s attractive at all, the silver shining giving his skin a beautiful glow and darkening the red makeup around his eyes. 

“Hey,” he breathes. 

Grantaire doesn’t say anything, he simply looks at him. It's almost unnerving, the attentiveness that Enjolras finds himself target of, but it’s sort of nice as well. He moves closer almost involuntarily, and he feels a warmth on his chest when he notices R does too. 

The thing is, Enjolras rarely drinks. He doesn’t particularly enjoy the taste of most alcohols, and he hates not being in control of his thoughts or actions, so this state of tipsiness is as good as being halfway drunk to him. It is perhaps this what compels him to get even closer to Grantaire, so that there’s merely a couple of inches between them. 

“Apollo-” Grantaire’s breath hitches, and now he’s certainly looking at Enjolras’ lips. 

They stay like that for some moments, no one daring to move first. Enjolras has almost convinced himself that he read the situation wrong, and Grantaire feels nothing stronger than friendship, when suddenly there’s a hand on his waist and other cupping his face. 

“Fuck it,” R murmurs, before bringing their lips together. 

It's gentle, almost shy, barely more than a touch of lips. Enjolras wraps his arms around Grantaire’s neck, pressing hard enough to make it obvious he’s reciprocating, but neither attempts to change the soft nature of the kiss. 

When they pull away, their foreheads are still touching, each leaning into the other, not wanting to break the moment. Looking directly at Grantaire’s green eyes, Enjolras can’t help the content sigh that comes out of his lips, relishing the smile that he gets in return. 

He intends to ask Grantaire what this means to him, wanting to be on the same page so as not to suffer the horrors of miscommunication. Instead, lost in his eyes as he is, what comes out is, “I love you.” 

It takes a minute for what he’s said to sink in, in both of them. Grantaire stills in his arms, his eyes widening while the rest of his expression turns blank. Meanwhile, Enjolras wants to slap himself. 

He's supposed to be good with words, dammit! Speeches come as easily as breathing to him, but of course, the one time he needs his words the most, they fail him. The plan was to talk things out with Grantaire, maybe –hopefully- try this relationship thing out, not go and scare him off confessing his love after they kiss for the first time, for fuck’s sake! 

However, before he can spiral anymore, Grantaire grabs his face with both his hands, gentle yet firm, his eyes dark, a guarded –but hopeful- expression on his features. “Do you mean it?” He asks, his voice trembling just slightly. 

_In for a penny._

Steeling himself, Enjolras holds his gaze, preparing himself for- he doesn’t even know for what. “Yes.” 

Grantaire still looks unsure. “You mean as in-” 

“As in,” he cuts him, his voice slightly breathless but certain,” I’m in love with you.” 

That's it, he’s said it. He wants to look away, and at the same time he doesn’t want to so much as blink, afraid he’ll miss something. 

“You... are in love with me?” 

He doesn’t hesitate. “I am.” 

Enjolras doesn’t know what he’s expecting at this point, but next thing he knows, their lips are crashing together yet again. 

This kiss is nothing like the one before. While the first one had been tentative, gentle, this one is all but. Grantaire kisses him like it is the only thing that will save him, savouring every part of him. Someone whimpers, and someone moans, and then Enjolras is biting Grantaire’s lip, and then there’re tongues, and Enjolras feels like his knees might give up any time now. 

Grantaire pushes him against the wall, their bodies flushed against each other. Enjolras makes a sound from the back of his throat as Grantaire moves from his lips to his jaw, kissing down his neck. He grabs him by the hair after a few moments, bringing their mouths together again. 

They part to catch their breath for a second, before their mouths meet again. It's messy, they are panting, and smiling, and there’s just a little too much teeth, but god, is it perfect. 

After a few more minutes, they pull away for good, trying to catch their breath, but not letting it to be more than some inches between them, Enjolras’ hands still around Grantaire’s neck, and Grantaire’s holding Enjolras’ head gently, his thumb caressing his cheek. 

“I love you, too,” Grantaire says once he’s breathing somewhat normally again, a wide grin splitting his face in two, which matches the one Enjolras feels on his own. 

Enjolras should have seen it coming from the events of the past few minutes, but the declaration still feels huge. The question leaves his mouth before he can stop it, “How long?” 

Grantaire chuckles softly. “I don’t think I can remember a time where I didn’t love you, Apollo.” 

It is Enjolras who pulls them together this time, clinging to the artist like a lifeline, this kiss the perfect combination between the other two, loving yet heated. 

When they get back inside holding hands, hair all messed up, Grantaire’s makeup not as sharp as it had been before, their friends cheer, and some money is passed around, much to Enjolras’ indignation and Grantaire’s amusement. 

They'll need to sort some things out, that’s for sure, and it is unlikely that their debates will ever end, but Enjolras is confident that they’ll work it out. It may not always be easy, but he doesn’t need easy when he has Grantaire. 

(When Grantaire finds out that the eyeliner and consequent makeup was Enjolras’ breaking point, he doesn’t doubt to use it to his advantage, not that Enjolras minds.) 

**Author's Note:**

> i don't really know how to add links, so this may not work? but something like this is the makeup that i imagined grantaire wearing at the gallery: https://ar.pinterest.com/pin/400750066840752449/  
> also, in case it wasn't clear, neither of them is drunk at the end, just a little bit tipsy, but they are fully aware of everything happening  
> anyways, hope you liked it!


End file.
